If We Could Turn Back Time
by Cadet Eyes
Summary: He watches, frozen, as the man before him stepped onto the bridge. (A fix it regarding a certain scene that need not be talked about)


**'Lo all. Few notes before we begin. I changed up some of the dialogue, cause why not right? Also, cause there seems to be some debate on the timeline (It seems general consensus that The Fall happens 15 years prior to TFA, but the novel Bloodlines takes place 6 years before TFA, and The Fall hasn't happened yet) I'm sticking with the 15 year timeline for this. Also, I don't know why that for the title. I've been on a twenty one pilots kick and it seemed to fit.**

 **Anyway. ONWARDS!**

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"Ben!"

He watches, frozen, as the man before him stepped onto the bridge. It had been a long time since he had seen that face. Not as long as the man thought, but long enough still that he was surprised at how the man didn't look any different to him now than he did when he was a child.

There was a time, five years passed, when he had been on Corellia, that he saw this man, and while he was shocked at the new lines that had appeared on his face since their last meeting, there was a strange sort of comfort to know that he could still recognize it. He wasn't noticed then. It was one of the few times he went without the helmet, and he had blended in seamlessly with the Corellian crowd.

"Take off that mask. You don't need it here, with me."

 _With me_ , he says, like the distance they stood apart was the only divide that separated them. Like the past fifteen years were just bad dreams. He almost wished they were.

"And what do you think you'll see if i do?"

He's never heard what his modulated voice sounded like from outside of the helmet. He's always been careful to not speak around anything that might record him. Inside, his voice echoes back at him like an ewoks drum, and it sounds deep and menacing. It's one of the reasons he wears it. He knows the truth of his face; the wide, dark eyes and hair that was always on the wrong side of floppy, no matter how short it was cut. He looks much younger than his near thirty years, and even shouting, his voice is almost soft spoken. Hux told him once that there could actually be an advantage to it, as no one who didn't already know the truth would never believe him to be Kylo Ren.

"The face of my son."

There's a jolt at how easy he says the words, and how it quells a need to hear them he didn't even know was there.

 _My Son_. So he was still someone's son. There were still people in the galaxy willing to claim him as theirs despite it all. It was an odd thought, one that sent a shock of energy to the little ball of light sitting deep in his soul.

He reached to remove the helmet, watching the man carefully for his reaction. The last time they'd been face to face, he had been a pouting, gangly teenager still growing into his limbs. He'd stopped growing over a decade ago, but according to Hux he still had a habit of pouting.

He could see astonishment in the man's eyes at the sight of his son as an adult. But there was recognition there too. A look of confirmation that pierced his soul and gave the light a place to escape.

The man talks about home, about returning to them, to his mother. With each heartbeat, the light pulses brighter and brighter, pushing against this chest, making his ribs hurt.

He knows what he should do. Knows what he _needs_ to do to stop this conflict once and for all.

The light pulses again, trying to banish the thought before it could begin.

The man is in front of him now, no more than an arm's length away. It would be easy at this distance. _So easy._

The light slams against his ribs, vibrating now with an intensity that almost sounds like words.

"Come home, Ben."

The light is still pulsing, the vibrations becoming clearer. _No. No. No!_

So easy. All he would have to do is-

"No."

The light goes still, but the vibrations remain. They feel like the purr of a Loc-cat now. They feel content.

"No?"

He hadn't realized he spoke out loud.

"No. I can't"

The man seems to realize they aren't talking about the same thing.

"Ben?"

"You need to go."

The light flares, warm. It wants him to go, too.

"You need to leave. Right now. If you don't, I'll have to kill you and I-"

There's confusion in the man's eyes. He realizes that he expected to die today. That he didn't think it would actually work, that he could get through to whatever remained of his son.

"I won't do that. I _can't_ do that. But I'll be forced to, if you don't leave."

"Not without you. I made a promise."

The light is getting restless again. It's bouncing around his soul, urging him to follow his father off the bridge. To return to the Falcon, to his mother, his family, and renounce what he's become.

Surprisingly, he finds himself wanting that too.

"No, I can't. Not yet. There's still something-"

Something what though? Something left? Something he needs to finish? Something keeping him here? He's not sure, he just knows he can't leave. Not yet.

He takes a step back, away from his father. Then another, and another, putting more physical distance between them without looking away. He doesn't speak again until he finds the end of the bridge.

"Go. I won't stop you. But _please_ , go!"

He's left his helmet where he was standing, but he doesn't remember dropping it. He doesn't go back for it, choosing to leave it behind as a symbol of what's changed. He turns away then, walking away from his father as the entire structure shakes with an explosion. In the moment of eerie silence that follows, he hears his father say one last thing.

"I'll come back for you. I promise."


End file.
